A Doe and a Stag
by astral symphony
Summary: '"So you're telling me," she says slowly, "that that deer was you." "More or less." "Do you realize that's illegal?" "Completely."'


**author's note | **part of jily secret santa over at tumblr, for ripjamesandlily (dot tumblr dot com)!

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Lily Evans sits on the windowsill, hugging her knees to her chest; her forehead rests against the cool pane of glass, red hair falling all around her shoulders. Welcomed silence surrounds her. She is the only girl in her year who stayed at Hogwarts for the winter holidays, and it is perhaps the greatest gift she could have received. It is easy to lose track of yourself when constantly surrounded by jabbering teenage girls, no matter how good of friends they may be. So, on this quiet night, she embraces the solitary dorm with a fresh and open mind.

She can't be sure how long she has been sitting against the windowpane. During this time, though, snow begins to fall. Heavy flakes drift lazily to the ground, already covered in a sheet of white that accumulated the other day. She tries to follow the snow's path but finds it dizzying. Some of them twirl and spin languidly while others rush by the window in rapid succession. Each flake seems caught in a whirlwind, sparkling in the bright moonlight that shines overhead and casts a cerulean glow across the entire world before her. Despite the snow, clarity remains in the star-spangled sky, the almost-full moon's edges crisp against its navy backdrop.

Lily's eyes droop of their own accord, lids closing slowly, slowly, slowly, until she forces them open. Because sometime during her body's attempt to force sleep a figure appears in the distance. It is blurred by the snow, but she can tell it is a great creature with four legs. It is but a dark splotch against the winter white that rages on, but despite this all she cannot stifle her intrigue. It moves slowly, back and forth several paces, swinging its large head up to the heavens and back down to nose at the accumulated snow. She presses both hands against the window, her nose joining them as she tries to get as good a look as possible. For a moment, the figure stops. It stands completely, utterly still. She can't tell exactly, but it almost appears to be staring at her.

Without a second thought, she reaches for her heaviest cloak and scarf, knit red-and-gold, and starts toward the door.

xxx

It is a quiet night. So quiet, in fact, that had the snow not been crunching beneath her feet with every step she may have questioned her ability to hear. Reassured by the echoing sound of snow packing against the ground, she continues on along the now-fading path that had been previously marked out for her. Or, perhaps not her specifically. She likes to imagine it that way, though. Certainly, her thoughts have been crazy as of late. Being alone in a dormitory for prolonged periods of time has a way of doing funny thing to one's mind.

Thinking that wild animals are communicating with you, however, is a special brand of crazy. This is Hogwarts, though, so nothing can be truly ruled out. Except for electronics, she muses.

Lily stops in her tracks, eyebrows furrowed as she looks all around her. The castle looms faded in the distance, grand and glowing faintly orange from the torches that are still lit. Perhaps she should have planned this whole excursion a little better: after all, she had no idea what she was looking for and, frankly, she couldn't quite tell where it even was. Her fingers curl around her wand which rests in the deep pockets of her cloak.

And that's when she hears it, coming from somewhere behind her: a low snort, followed by a long exhalation. She whips around without thinking.

A deer - a large stag - stands before her. His head is bowed slightly, twisting antlers lowered. It appears almost submissive, calm. From behind thick lashes caught with snowflakes are eyes, staring at her, the color of amber glass. Lily takes a slow step back, not out of fear, particularly, but more of respect for this creature with his powerful haunches and sturdy antlers. Its head raises the slightest and it issues another snorting sigh.

The stag almost looks nervous. Still, something strikes her as familiar about this creature. She can't quite place it. Although, she reflects as she stares curiously at him, meeting his warm eyes, she just recently discovered her Patronus to be a doe. A charm meant to protect, it takes on a form individual to each conjurer. Standing before the deer now, she supposes it makes sense that it evokes some sort of comfort.

That is when he begins to trot away. She starts toward him with the intent of following him, but after a stall in his step and a gentle shake of his head (though perhaps that was more to shake snow from his fur), she takes him to mean she ought to stay back.

But Lily Evans is not much in the habit of doing as told, especially by mute animals. As the stag bounds away, taking great leaps across the fresh-fallen snow, she places her hands resolutely on her hips and starts toward the stretch of forest into which he entered. There was one thing, however, that could stop her in her tracks: and that was the voice.

"Evans, I advise you to stop walking immediately."

She spins on her spot, looking all around her in search for the origin of this voice. No one is there, which confuses her even further.

"Excuse me?" she calls out into the open, an eyebrow raised curiously.

"Just – er – stay where you are, all right? Trust me on this one."

The speaker's words are carried away by the blustering snow, blurring the audio as it reaches her ears. Still, she recognizes the voice. If she could just place it –

"Don't get angry…" he says as he steps out of the nest of trees, dressed in a pair of trousers and his thick winter cloak. His fingers still work on fastening the closure at his neck.

"James?" she sputters, shocked. The exhalation she breathes creates a cloud of steam in front of her face, proof to just how cold winter's bite is. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"Do you honestly expect me to answer that before you explain to me why _you're _out here in the cold?"

"I was just –" she begins before stopping short. She was just what, exactly – following wildlife? Who the hell did she think she was, Snow White? If that is the case, she would like to know where her seven doting dwarves are.

The tall boy before her snorts a breath of laughter, rumpling the hair at the back of his head as he runs a hand through it. His fingers settle at the crook of his neck for a moment before the arm falls limply to his side.

"I know what you were _just_, Evans. At least, I've got a fair idea."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she demands.

"I could tell you, but I'd have to _Obliviate _you."

"Threatening me now, Potter?"

"Just stating facts."

She blinks, all thoughts of the animal vanquished from her mind. Instead, she pivots on the ball of her foot and starts back toward the castle. "I'll be going now."

"What a coincidence. Me also!" He takes several quick, long steps to meet her distance.

Lily says nothing in response and simply marches forward, feet heavy in the snow. She neither acknowledges nor resists his presence, even has his steps loom closer and closer to her side. She simply crosses her arms taut against her chest and directs her attention to the castle hailing in the distance.

"All right, I give," she says finally, an explosion after several long seconds of silence. "Have you been out here for hours?" she asks, incredulous. After all, Lily had been staring idly out of her window for upwards of an hour without seeing any figure except that deer. She would have noticed if James Potter had been taking a stroll about the grounds.

"No."

"Well I _have_," she says, "and I would have noticed or heard someone else. All I've seen is a deer. No other indication of life. In fact, you may have seen it. The deer, that is," she clarifies, glancing at him as he walks alongside her.

He gives no indication of hearing her, so she stops walking. Her eyes narrow into slits as she glances at him suspiciously. "What did you do to that animal, James Potter?"

"_What?" _he sputters, also stopping in his tracks. "Honestly, Lily?"

She shrugs, pulling her cloak to her chest as a particularly strong gust of wind forces its way through the forest. Snow falls from the sky and off the treetops, swirling past her and sticking defiantly to the ends of her hair and her eyelashes.

"What – _exactly _– is your explanation for all this?"

She blinks, watching him as he grows frustrated with her. His face, already red from the cold, takes on an extra tint of pink. Lily takes a step toward him, eyebrows furrowed. She imagines her own face is just as flushed as his own, the cold biting at her cheeks and nipping her nose with no mercy.

"I – o_kay. _Please don't lecture me, or yell at me, or roll your eyes, or scoff, or call me a show-off, or _any of those things_."

"Merlin, James. The build-up is making me nervous."

He laughs dryly. "You haven't the slightest."

She sighs, a shaky breath bursting before her. "Continue, please."

"All right. Er – I'm, well. I mean. I've learned how to, you know, turn myself into an animal," he mutters, avoiding her eyes. "I'm an Animagus. A stag," he adds, gesturing to the section of woods from which he recently emerged.

She stares blankly at him for several long, quiet seconds. It's all she can do. Professor McGonagall has talked about Animagi. They're rare enough that they have an entire documentation process through the Ministry of Magic. There's a registry that lists every witch and wizard who has studied and achieved this particular spell. It details their name, origin, Magical Security Identification Number, the animal they can transform into, and any specific markings they may possess. McGonagall herself is an accomplished Animagus, turning into a cat with peculiar spectacle-like markings around her wide green eyes; she explained to their Transfiguration several years ago how difficult a process it is to achieve this transformation.

Yet, here is a seventeen-year-old boy claiming he has accomplished this.

"An animagus," she repeats slowly. He is, she supposes, a remarkably clever wizard. He has always made top marks and _did_ get chosen as Head Boy. Neither of these are particularly easy feats. But still: this is highly advanced magic that not even she has attempted – and she considers herself to be quite ambitious as a witch.

"Yes."

"But you couldn't possibly – _how_?" she sputters.

"It's a long story."

"I have all night."

"Unfortunately, it's not my story to tell."

She stares at him through narrowed eyes.

"So you're telling me," she says slowly, "that that deer was you."

"More or less."

"Do you realize that's illegal?"

"Completely."

"I –" she throws her arms up and laughs, bemused. "I don't particularly care to discuss this right now."

James shrugs and continues on toward the castle, making his way past her in just a few strides. Lily furrows her eyebrows and speeds up to match his pace.

"Well, now that you've intruded on my whimsical winter walk," she accuses after several moments of quiet progression, "I suppose I should ask you where your mates are and why, exactly, you're wandering about all on your own."

"Peter's off with that Madeline girl in Hufflepuff," he begins. "He's quite chuffed with himself at landing a decent bird. Remus is home for the Holidays. Sirius had too much Firewhisky and passed out."

"So you thought you'd come outside."

"I was bored. Isn't that why _you're_ out here?"

"I happen to enjoy the snow."

"Well – Happy Christmas, Lily."

She smiles, a genuine curl of her lips that she can't resist. "Thank you, James. You also." And as she looks up, she notices that they've reached the entrance to Hogwarts Castle. Lily reaches a hand to the touch, her fingertips touching the bronze metal handle, twisting and grand and intricate in its antiquity.

"Wait—" She blinks, turning around to face him. He is not looking at her, though; instead, he is reaching for something underneath his cloak. After a short moment, he exposes a silvery, filmy material that sparkles under the moonlight. It billows gently in the dull wind. "Invisibility cloak," he answers to her questioning look. "Just to be safe."

"What the –"

"Questions later," James interrupts, the smirk lighting up his face even in the dark night sky.

xxx

The Gryffindor Common Room is dark, save for a dwindling fire in the corner of the room. She imagines it must be almost midnight, if not past. A silvery glow has settled over the surfaces of the room, setting the gold accents aglow while the maroon furniture and hangings spread a certain sort of warmth across the expanse of the area. A feeling of comfort, of home, starts in her toes and spreads all the way to the crown of her head the second she steps through the portrait hole. A smile spreads of its own accord.

"Sit up with me for a tick?"

"All right," she says with a shrug, sitting beside him on the sofa. She hadn't even noticed him taking a seat.

A silence settles between them. To Lily, it is uncomfortable. She realizes that she still has her cloak on and busies herself with the extraction of it. She slings it over the arm of the couch, clearing her throat as she twists her fingers in her lap.

"So –" she chokes out awkwardly. "An animagus."

"Er, yeah."

"Why?"

"I … Well, I just can't tell you that." James looks at her, his expression warm and worrying. "Someday," he reassures. Something stirs in her stomach, something new and unfamiliar, but she ignores it and raises her eyebrow at him.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he shrugs.

"That deer – that was really you?"

"Um, well, yes."

She pauses, considering. "I saw you from the window of my dormitory. That's why I came outside. I saw you, and it looked like you were staring, so I followed."

James glances at his hands, perhaps avoiding her eyes. "I went outside to transform, and I guess it's instinct to look back at the castle. I don't know why, honestly. I suppose habit has me drawn to the Gryffindor tower."

"Do you want to know something funny? My Patronus is a deer," she says with a small smile. She steals a page from his book and stares down at her hands, tracing one thumbnail with the other. "A doe," she clarifies. She glances at him from the corner of her eyes, unable to read any sort of response. "That's mostly why I went outside when I saw the stag – uh, you."

She appears to have rendered James Potter speechless. As if to prove her point, she reaches over the end of the couch into the pocket of her cloak. Withdrawing her wand, she shuts her eyes for a moment of focus and thinks of several happy thoughts; they escalate from mild memories to great feelings of hope and joy. She thinks of salted caramels and the smell of books; her fifth birthday with the card that Petunia made for her; she remembers her Hogwarts letter and that first day on the train when she knew – _just knew _– that she found her place; she thinks of her first E in Charms and the time that she, Dorcas, and Kat got drunk for the first time. And as she concentrates on all of these moments, she mutters the incantation, "_Expecto Patronum!" _and a silvery, incandescent deer appears before them.

It glows in the Common Room, the brightest thing that exists in that moment. Flickering slightly, she is worried it might putter out, but then she forces her mind to focus on the absolute best moment she could have possibly remembered and it pulses brilliantly in the dark.

The memory she chooses is from Christmas Eve two years ago, when she spent the Holidays at home. She did not know it then, but it was one of the last times she saw her father before he passed away due to poor health. None of that mattered in this memory, though. She could not sleep this particular December the twenty-fourth, so she decided she would go downstairs in the parlor. She was met, upon entering the room, with the azure blue of paid programming advertisements . Her father sat, drinking cheap beer from a large stein, watching a series of half-hour infomercials. Without a word, Lily sat down beside him on the couch. He passed the beer to her and she took a large sip. There they sat in silence, just enjoying the company of one another. It is an understated and pure moment, so true to her relationship with her father, that it has the power to fill her heart with warmth.

So, holding onto this memory, the doe bounds in great leaps across the Common Room. She leaves a trail of silver wisps behind her.

"A doe," he says.

"A doe," she repeats.

"And a stag," he says.

"And a stag," she repeats.

She drops her wand back into her pocket, causing her patronus to vanish in a flash. It glints feebly once more before she finally dies out, making the room dark once more save for the dimming fire. Indulging in impulse, Lily reaches her hand in the dark where she expects his might be. She gropes tentatively for a moment, her fingertips brushing his knee until his hand catch hers. Smiling to herself, and thankful for the dark that hides the pink blush spreading across her cheeks, she entwines her fingers with his. And with that, she places a quick peck on his cheek before resting her head in the space above his collarbone.

"Happy Christmas, James," she mutters.

"Happy Christmas, Lily," he repeats, brushing his lips in a soft caress on the top of her head.

xxx


End file.
